Strangers In The Dark

I saw a man last night.
Under a tree, in the shadows.
Broken, beaten, homeless, friendless.
And worst of all, without hope.

He had rags for clothes, foot sores for shoes, lice for company.
He was half sitting, half lying down.
Like he couldn’t decide whether to give up on life,
Or whether to rave one last time at the world.

He stared into the darkness.
Was he staring into the darkness of his soul?
He had probably known better days,
But then his shirt had probably known a better owner.

Our paths crossed, but our eyes never locked.
He stayed in his world, and couldn’t leave it even if he tried.
I felt bad for the briefest of minutes.
But then I stepped into the light and drove to the mall.